Damaged
by Ejdrup
Summary: Prequel to Daddy Won't Hurt You! After one of the – serious violently – beatings, Dean thinks about himself, his brother, how he really feels, and about the promises he can never keep. Two-Shot.
1. Damaged

**P****requel to Daddy Won't Hurt You! So it'll probably make more sense if you read it first! I was listening to Damaged by Plump, and the idea to this appeared. This is after one of the –serious violently – beatings, a little jump into Dean's mind.**

**Disclaimer:**** I own the idea. The song, lyrics, the boys and the show are not mine.**

**Warning:**** If you have read Daddy Won't Hurt You! You probably won't be surprised, but anyway. Mention of serious violence and language.**

**A/N:**** Link to the song on my profile. I know I promised a sequel, but I just had to do this one first, and it's only a one-shot, **_**aaaand**_** I might use it to something **_**in **_**the sequel. I'm leaving the brother's ages unknown, though Dean is younger than 16, and Sam is younger than 12.**

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**Damaged**

_Dreaming comes so easily  
__'Cause it's all that I've known  
True love is a fairytale  
I'm damaged, so how would I know?_

_I'm scared and I'm alone  
I'm shamed and I need for you to know_

_~Plumb, Damaged_

Flowers, butterflies, sunny days and a long walk down the beach. Sounds like a girl's dream right? Well, this is what you dream about when dreams are the only thing that is really yours, the only thing that you have ever known as normal.

Love? What I know of, only three people have ever loved me. One is my mom, but she's dead. Two, my dad, but he's not my dad anymore, he's a monster, and he can't love anymore, only hate. Three; my little brother, his love is the strongest I've ever known, but he's broken, just as, if not more, broken as me.

So for me, love is a fairytale. When the prince arrives on his white horse, saves the princess, gives her a kiss of true passion and rides into the sunset. But how would I know? I'm just useless, broken, damaged.

Mentally and physically.

My mind is twisted, I can't even figure out if this is normal or not anymore. I know, deep down, it's not, but when you've grown up with this, your father tells you it is normal, it's your secret and you just have to live with it, it makes you feel like you're lost in a big gap of nothing. No reality, not even fantasies are allowed here.

But I guess it's the touch of normalcy from my mother which keeps me going, and of course the fact that I have a little brother to protect, a little brother who actually loves me.

Physically I'm broken too. Right now, my head is hurting like someone banged it into a big metal pole and then decided to jump on it too –not that it wasn't what happened– at least one of my ribs is broken and three others must be sprained. I've probably gotten bruises covering every little inch of my body, and my left leg… Well, my left leg I know is broken. I can literally feel the broken bone scratching up against the inside of my skin when I try to move it.

Only a little movement under my arms makes me realize I'm still lying on the floor. It is coming from Sam that much I know. John would never do anything like that, for all I know he's left again to sit on a bar for the next three hours, minimum.

Sammy though, he must have crawled from the little corner he had been thrown to, to under my arm – by my side.

Tonight had been bad, I don't know what had pissed John off this much, but I sure as hell know Sam and I should have stayed on a distance of three hundred miles, if not more. What I regret the most was having Sam there, because John had had enough strength to go after Sam, _after _he had beaten the holy crap out of me.

I hadn't been able to do anything to stop him, my leg and head had made sure of that. All I could do was watching my baby brother suffer under John's hands, and hear the broken, tear-filled sobs from him.

When he had thrown Sam in the corner, he had decided to kick me a couple of times again, and then he had left. The kicks had thrown me into unconsciousness, which weren't quite what I needed when I had a brother I needed to take care of.

Tonight I actually think Sam would be the more protective one. Not that I really allow, but if he has been strong enough to crawl over to me, I think he's in a better shape than I am. And even if I won't let him, he does it anyway. He's so young and he has already experienced more than a human should ever have to, so I can't really stop him from doing it.

I can feel my shirt getting wet, more than the blood has already made it, and I decide to wake up, Sam must be crying, and I can't stand it when he is. Something is either scaring him, or he is really hurting, because he has learned not to cry because of nothing, he only cries when something is really bad, or really frightening him.

As I gain awareness, I start to regret waking up. Everything hurts, and I know it'll take time before I'm healed, before we're both healed. Not just physically, but also mentally. Both of the things make it chills to the bone, and we won't, _can't_ let anyone get close to us, let anyone help us.

We're too damaged to even look people in the eyes anymore, and it scares the hell out of me. Sammy is not able to play with the other kids, I'm always walking alone, and the shame is filling me up, I don't know where to leave it, I can't get away from it, it's hunting me, and I just wished John knew. Knew how it felt, knew what he had really done to his sons.

But I know it's all wishes, wishes from a broken soul who's lost in the dark. Nobody even bother to help anymore, so what's there to do? What can I do?

I open my eyes and when I look down a little I can see Sam's shaggy hair. His head is buried in my chest, and he's breathing heavy, steady breathes – he's crying, which means he must be scared.

"'Mmm?" It was meant to be his name, but there only came a long sigh of M's.

"Dean?" A tiny voice asks from under my chin, and I feel Sam looking at me, so I look back down at him and try to give him a reassuring smile.

"Hey 'ammy," my mouth is dry and my throat utterly rough. I can see he is worried, though the thing which caught my eyes is the bruised cheek and swollen eye. John had hit hard, and Sam was going to have those bruises for a couple of month, before they would be completely gone.

"Yo-you okay?" His voice is just as tiny as before, and his voice shaking.

"I'm super," I force the words out of my mouth, and I'm not alright, but mentally I am, as long as Sam is there, so it isn't a completely lie.

He doesn't say anything, just shakes his head a bit and rests his head carefully against my chest. It doesn't hurt, so I hug him into my chest just to feel he's actually there, and it stops the pain for a bit.

He let me do it, but he's still pushing a bit against the hug, because he doesn't want to hurt me. I would have told him not to, if it wasn't because my leg was hurting like a bitch.

"It's gonna be okay Sammy, we'll get out of here someday, I pro…" I have to take a deep breathe to keep the pain down and then continue. "…I promise you."

There were a thousand things I could say to Sam, a thousand things I _want_ to tell him, but I can't. I can't ever tell anyone how I feel, what I want or how I want it, I can only take what I get. And for Sam, I can only give the best I can. Me. It's not much, but Sam is a generous soul, every time he tells me it's enough, and every time I feel bad about it.

And the fear I feel isn't making anything better. Fear caused by John. When will he get drunk and take his anger out on us again? How will I find Sam when he's home alone with John? What if I can't hide a bruise one day and somebody actually cares about it, will the system separate Sam and me? Do we even have enough money to stay in the apartment, to get food? The fear I have to live with every day. Only my soul can help me, make things alright, but it's hard when it's broken too.

The thing that really scares me, though, is that I can feel him. I feel John everywhere. When I do something wrong, when I'm just two seconds late, even if I take a wrong step, I can feel him watching me, I can feel him touching me. Like he's just waiting for me to do something wrong so he can punish me, or worse, punish Sam for my mistakes.

"Hhhp," Sam accidently touched my leg with his foot, and the pain which shots through my leg is almost unbearable. I try to keep it hidden though, because I know Sam, and if he notices he'll be all mother hen on me, a hen with a lot of blame by the way.

"Sorry! I'm sorry Dean, I, I…" Too late, Sam is already up on all fours and is crawling back so he can't hurt me any further.

"No Sammy, don't! You didn't know okay, not your fault," I hurried to say while getting up and resting on in my elbows. My head is only shouting for me to get back down, but of course I do not obey.

"You ne-ed to see a do-oc-ter," Sam stutters out through his sobs, and I can't really figure out if it is because he is hurt, or because he thinks he has hurt me. So I sit up, which hurt like hell, and holds my hand out to Sam. He grabs it, and I slowly guide my baby brother into my arms and hug him tightly against my chest.

"You know I can't go to the doctor, not before dad comes home anyway, but…" I had to; once again, take a deep breath to control the pain. "…Could you help me into the bed?" I ask as soft and generous as I can. I can feel Sam nodding against my chest, and after a few moments, Sam drew away, got up and held his hands out to me.

Then I notice his blue face again, and felt bad for not asking if he was okay, and well, better late than never, right?

"Hey Sammy? You okay?" It sounded even more stupid when I said it out loud, but now I had said it, and Sam had to answer. The question was just if he choose to lie or not.

He gave a shy smile and nods. "My head hurts a bit, but it's all," he says as he pulls me up.

"God!" Funny word showing you're hurt right? But it was the only thing I managed to say, god my leg hurt, and what nice black spots there where dancing around in front of my eyes. This pain was truly too much to bare. Talking about baring, I was still standing, which meant Sam was carrying most of my weight, the kid was stronger than I gave him credit for.

"You o-okay, Dean?" His tiny voice asks, and his big eyes are digging into mine.

"I don't think you want an honest answer to that Sammy," I try to joke, but Sam just keeps staring.

"Let's just… Get into the bed," I say, and start to hobble into the bedroom. Sam is groaning a bit when I jump and puts my weight on him, but he doesn't complain.

"I'm sorry," I finally say when I sit down on my bed, he shouldn't have to do this, _I_ should take care of _him_.

"Don't be… You want me to help with your leg?" He asks and looks curios, concerned and scared at me and then down on the odd bent leg.

"Uhhm," I would like to, yeah, but I'd rather not have Sam watching me this weak, I hate when I'm in this position.

"It's okay to ask for help sometimes Dean," Sam gently says and carefully places his hands on my leg; he doesn't do anything, just wait for me to say something.

"Okay, but… Just count to three and then we move, okay?" I ask, I know it's gonna hurt, but it'll hurt even more if I don't get it up.

"Okay… One… Two, three," his grab on my leg tightness and the pain from the leg makes me squeeze my eyes shut and give a little cry. Suddenly I'm turned so my legs are on the sheet, the broken leg resting on the carpets so it's coming up higher, and my back resting against the headboard.

"'Ou okay?"

I take the time to calm down, and then open my eyes and look straight in to my little brother's. "I'm fine Sammy, thanks," I try to smile, and it looks like it works, because he smiles back.

"C'mere," I say as I pat the bed. He hesitatingly crawls up beside me, and as I move my arms around him, he rests against my side. I can feel his shoulders shaking, and I can hear his unsteady breathe, and I'm guessing he's crying again.

"It's gonna be okay Sammy, it's all gonna be okay, you hear me?" He nods against my shoulder, and his breathing is becoming steadier. This is usually how it ends, every time John has been up to something, it ends with me promising Sam something I know I can't really keep.

But I must not look back, I can't go back, so I have to forget the past and move on, not just for me, but for Sammy too. Move on and try to see the light, try to keep the promises, but honestly I only move on because I can't leave my brother, he's my reason for living, and for him, I don't just _have_ to move one, for him, I will gladly do it.

_I can't go back…  
I must go on…_


	2. Man behind the Mask

**Disclaimer:**** The idea is all mine, and mine only muahaha – my precious x)**

**Warning:**** Language and a bit of violence.**

**A/N:**** After requests, and because I simply like the idea, I made another chapter to the story. The lyrics are from the song He's Back (The Man Behind the Mask) by ****Alice Cooper, and this will probably be the last chapter. I've already started on the ****sequel**** to Daddy Won't Hurt You! So it won't be long before the first chapter is up!**

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**Man behind the Mask**

_Did you hear that voice  
Did you see that face  
Or was it just a dream  
This can't be real  
That only hap__pens, babe  
On the movie screen_

_~Alice Cooper, He's Back (The Man Behind the Mask)_

"Get up!" Somebody yelled and pulled me out of the bed. Because of my leg I couldn't stay upright so I fell to the floor, winching in pain.

"You fucking brat, now I have to take you to the ER. Why can't you ever stay still, huh?! Why do you always have to get yourself into this mess, so _I_ have to take care of _you_?!" John hauled me up by the collar and shook me violently as he spit the angry words into my face.

I knew what I had to do, play nice and guilty. If I talked back at him, I would end up in a coffin and not the ER, or I could pretend it wasn't him who had done this and just be guilty.

"Sorry s-sir," the pain in the leg didn't make anything better, and John didn't care at all, and… _Oh my God, Sammy! _I had forgotten him. He had been sleeping against my side, and I think I could remember him tugging my shirt, just before John threw me out of the bed.

I tried to turn my head to see where he was, but the grip in my collar made it imposable. I could hear him though. Small hidden sobs, a rattling from when he moved and the sound of his nails scratching the floor when he tries to grab something to comfort.

"You look at me when I talk to you, boy! Change your clothes and get out to the car, fast! I will take you to get that leg fixed…" As he mentioned the leg, he kicked it which made me cried out in pain, and the tears I had been holding back were now streamed freely down my cheeks.

"… Oh, look the little weak the puppy is crying… Now you know what to do, get started!" He yelled and threw me hard back down on the floor. If it wasn't because I knew my leg was broken, I sure would have known it by now.

"And _you_ Sam!" He got over to Sam and, just as he had done with me, hauled him up from the floor and showed him hard against the wall. A cry escaped his lips, and even more tears fell down his face.

"Leave him alone!" I managed to spit out, but John just ignored me.

"If you as much as show yourself outside or bring any other kind of attention to yourself! I'll personally show you the inside of your guts, got it?!" John yelled into his face, and as a reflex Sam nodded, never getting eye contact with his father.

John let Sam go, who fell straight to the floor, and it gave a loud thud when he hit the ground hard. He got out of the room and smacked the door hard behind him.

"Sammy?" He curled into himself, knees pressed up against the chest, his head resting on his knees while his body was trembling violently.

I dragged myself over to him, ignoring the awful pain in my leg. He flinched a bit when I put my hand on his shoulder, but as soon as he realized it was me, he leaned into the touch. I grabbed him around the other shoulder too, and hugged him into my chest. The silent sobs into my chest almost shattered my heart once again; the kid must be terrified by the words from John.

"It's okay Sammy, it's gonna be okay soon," I whispered into his chocolate brown hair and surprisingly Sam shook his head.

"Nooo, it's not, not ever…. I'm sorry, I… What's he gonna do?" He whispered in confusion and looked up with those wet bloodshot eyes that could make even Frankenstein feel sorry for him.

"Shhhh, we're just going to the hospital, getting my leg fixed it's all, dad won't do anything else, and he won't hurt you, okay?" I was surprised of how calm my own voice was, because I deep down felt like crying.

"Okay," he silently agreed and pulled away.

"What's wrong?"

"Yo-u need to get finished," he peeped and looked down at my clothes. I followed his gaze and understood what he is saying; I weren't exactly dressed to a prom night in my bloodied shirt and hair and my torn jeans.

I had soon cleaned myself as good as I could and changed my clothes, well everything but my jeans – the leg hurt too much to even try and take them off. After making sure Sam was going to be as okay as he could I moved out to the car, or more like limped out to the car.

John was waiting with a gloomy expression covering all of his face. He didn't say anything, and the ride to the hospital was spent in silence. Only my small moans when he made a sharp turn, or the car bumped on a stone or something and made my leg hurt even more.

As soon as we got to the hospital though, John changed from the father I know to the father I once knew.

When the car stopped he was out of his door and by my side, supporting me as we walked in, which stunned me completely.

But on all the personally changes, I still knew what he was doing. It was a mask he pulled on when he or we in this case, showed the public our faces. It was a weird feeling when someone who abused you like this, sometimes got down to earth and started to care and be a responsible father, just to turn it all around again when we came home.

After questions on questions, then a doctor, a nurse and some more questions, an x-ray, more doctors with more questions, I was finally done. When my leg was in a big leg cast, I had been handled a pair of crutches, we were finally on out way out of the clinical place.

"Thank you so much for taking care of my son," John said and shook the doctors hand. I sat in a wheelchair and waiting patiently while my _father_ acted his fatherly act.

"You're welcome, but no more skating for the young man, for a while, this is the place where we don't want to see people again, understand me right," the doctor joked and you didn't have to be a professor with Ph.D. in Human Rights Act to see that both John and me were both giving false smiles to cover something dark.

"I'll keep him away from the skateboard then," John said and glared down at me, his mouth smiling as assuring as he could, his eyes burning with extreme dislike and disgust. It sent chills down my spine, but I kept myself together, at least so the doctor wouldn't notice how I flinched away from John's touch or when he spoke to me.

"Yeah, I'll try to be more careful," I said carefully, not wanting to set John on fire once again.

After John had gotten the most important information, and I had kept myself in the background, only answering the questions asked specifically to me, we were standing beside the car once again.

"You just stand there Dean and I'll get the wheelchair back in," John said and pretended he was soothing me. The only thing was it made me shiver in a mix between horror and fear.

When John got back he held helped me into the passenger seat, raw hands around my shoulder and waist and his angry, but heavy breathes touching my neck. Then he took the crutches and threw them in the back before he crawl into the driver seat. He gave me one angry glare before starting the car and driving home.

All of the way I was pressed against the door side, my head resting on the cool window. I didn't do it because John had said anything to me – he hadn't said anything really – but because he was close. I didn't like him when he was this close to me, because without a warning he could grab me and I wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

At least John was driving fast. All I wanted to do was get home and hug Sam into my chest and never let go. Just the thoughts of how frightened Sam must be, not knowing when we were going to come back, what John had done to me – which surprisingly was nothing, or what John would do when we came home, made my heart clench – even more than it already had.

We had been through this before, of course, but the outcome was always unpredictable. So I was wishing for the best, and expecting the worst.

When the car pulled up beside the apartment, John just got out, smacking the door hard and waited for me to get out too. With my leg it made it difficult, and I had to use the roof of the car to pull myself awkwardly out. As soon as the door was closed John locked the doors, pointed at the crutches he had pulled out and thrown on the ground and then left me there.

I hurried over to crutches and picked them up, my broken leg always bowed either up under my body, or when I bent forward curved up backwards in a horizontally angle.

As I limped into the apartment, almost stumbling over my one foot and the crutches, I saw John sitting in front of the TV, and actually with nothing in hand, I would have expected a beer. I couldn't see Sam, so I hurried into our room and found him there.

He was curled into a ball, lying on _my _bed, and I had to stand and watch him for a little while before disturbing his sleep. That kid just knew how to bring up the best feelings in me.

I hobbled over to the bed and sat down on the edge. I let the crutches fall slowly down to the floor. I lay down behind him, moved my arms around his slim body and buried my nose on his brown shaggy hair.

Sometimes I wondered that if we hadn't grown up like this and hadn't been so close, I would never have done this. I would have thought someone would consider it as wrong. But I didn't, and neither did Sam. We knew it was only for comfort, and even though I hated the chick flick moments, I could never keep them away if Sam needs them.

Sam's breathe changed and he stiffed beneath me hands. I knew what he thought, so I hurried to keep him calm.

"Shhh, it's alright, it's just me. Go back to sleep lil' brother," I said and brushed my hand through his hair, and as if the words were magic Sam closed his eyes, tugged himself closer into my warm and soon his breathe was heavy and deep again.

I listened to the breath for a little while, and waited for John to do something, but he didn't come. As if Sam's breathe was a lullaby, I forgot everything about John and just let the sleep take over.

John never came into the room that night, didn't do anything the next day or week. It was like he actually enjoyed not beating me or Sam, but I knew the mask would drop soon. It was like being to a masquerade, it's beautiful and special with the mask on, but sooner or later you're going to get hungry, and the mask has to be taken off.

What I knew was, John would get hungry, really soon.


End file.
